Smokescreen's Quest
by ZephyrX9
Summary: When his credits get stolen, Smokescreen goes a'huntin'.
1. Wakeup

Smokescreen awoke to find a frowning Hoist standing above him.

"Wha-What happened?" The race car asked the medic.

"Apparently, you got drunk and got into a fight at that party last night. Now you're suffering short-term amnesia," the medic replied with frost in his tone.

_Oh, right. The party. _Smokescreen remembered now. He had won a huge gamble. Suddenly a bad thought struck him. _Oh, slag! Where's all those credits I won? _The DE ran his hands through his subspace pocket, only to find it empty.

"Scrap," was all he could say.

"What?" his companion asked. "Is something wrong, ole' chap?"

"Pit, yeah! Someone stole my credits that I won last night!" Smokescreen snarled.

"Well, I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but why not think who might have stolen it?" Hoist queried.

"Right," the red mech responded. _Let's see. Jazz, Brawn, Sideswipe, Air Raid, Bluestreak, Mirage, and Blades attended. Brawn, I trust, while Blue is too kind. That leaves Raider, Jazz, Sides, Mirage, and Blades._

_ "_Thanks a lot, Hoist. I owe ya one," Smokescreen told the medic, and left.

_888_

Smokescreen waltzed into Prowl's office without knocking, only to be surprised by Silverbolt sitting at the SIC's desk.

"Yes, Smokescreen? What is it? I hope you haven't gotten into any financial trouble," the gray airliner asked.

"Where's Prowl? I need his help," Smokescreen retorted.

"Prowl's out on patrol with Streetwise," Silverbolt calmly replied. It was hard for Smokescreen to read his expression.

"Slag, our two policemen are working," the red bot muttered. He then spoke up. "Someone stole my credits. And yes, I have thought of the suspects."

"I'm sorry, but Prowl told me not to help you," Silverbolt replied.

"Fine," Smokescreen grumbled, and proceeded to leave. On his way out, however, the Aerialbot leader stopped him.

"Before you go, Smokescreen, some advice. Next time, knock."

The car stormed out.


	2. Air Raid and Blades

Smokescreen was _not _in the mood to deal with Red Alert, so rather than set out to the security bay, the mech headed towards the Aerialbots' dorm room, intent on beginning his questioning with Air Raid. He was surprised, however, when the younger bot answered the door almost immediately after Smokescreen pressed the call button.

"Yo," the younger bot smiled."You alright after last night? Mirage told me what happened."

"You… didn't know what happened?" Smokescreen asked, looking perplexed.

"Man, that fight musta done something' to your processor," the jet said, knuckling his fellow Autobot's forehead. "As younger mechs, me and my bros get overcharged quickly, so I was passed out _waaay_ before the fight broke out. Anyways, why have you come a'callin'?"

_ Oh, right_, Smokescreen thought. _Raider couldn't have been the thief_. "Never mind," the blue Datsun said, and walked off.

Air Raid stared after Smokescreen for a few moments, and slipped back into his shared room.

888

Next, Smokescreen headed towards the combat training room, where Blades was almost eternally. He caught site of the street fighter ripping the arms off a training dummy that had the Combaticon Vortex's (Blades' nemesis) face on it.

"Whoah, easy there, kid. We don't have a lot of those, you know," he called to his angry comrade, who had just ripped off the dummy's head and was pummeling it.

"What do you want?" the helicopter snarled, never looking away from his target.

"I was wondering, what exactly happened last night?" the gambler asked.

"Why do ya ask?" the Protectobot asked, grabbing a gun off some racks on the wall.

"Well, I want…to have a shot at whoever busted me up," Smokescreen lied.

Blades eyed him, then smirked. "It sure as the Pit wasn't me, or not even Primus the Lord of Light himself could fix you up," he grinned, all the while shooting the frag out of the the training dummy. Smokescreen winced with each blast, and made a mental note to call Blades in for a therapy session soon.

Realizing that Blades was telling the truth, the gambler/psychologist/distractions expert waved good-bye and walked out of the room, all the while hearing the persistent gunfire. "Yeah, the kid _needs _a session," he muttered to himself, and quickly began to run.


	3. Sideswipe and Mirage

Next, the psychologist decided to check with Sideswipe, whom he decided he should have started with. However, he was disappointed when Sunstreaker opened the door.

"What'd he do _now_?" the yellow warrior implored.

"Someone stole my credits, and your brother is one of the prime suspects," Smokescreen snarled, being up front about it. He didn't bother with lies anymore. Now, it was just about _his_ credits.

"I don't recall sensing any mischievous feeling through our bond," Sunstreaker said smoothly.

"Did you feel any anger or pain?" the Datsun asked. When Sunstreaker looked surprised, he smirked. _I've got you now._

"Yeah, he was angry," the vain Twin said. "And then a little pain. In fact, when he got back, he had an ugly mar on his chestplate. But he definitely did_ not_ bring anything in."

"Let me be the judge of that," the DE retorted, and stepped inside without asking. He released his special "X-ray" smoke, which revealed hidden items. However, he could see no trace of energy, besides some secret high-grade. He frowned, thanked a somewhat angered Sustreaker and headed off to find Mirage.

_888_

Smokescreen found his next suspect laughing with Skids about something or other in the common room. The angered DE didn't care about what they were talking about. All he wanted was to get this over with.

"Hey, Mirage, can I speak with you?" he queried. The blue F-1 looked at him suspiciously, then shooed Skids with a flick of his head. The theoretician scurried off absent-mindedly, bumping against the door by accident. Smokescreen decided to have a session with the Nissan as well.

"Get on with it, Smokes. I was having a nice conversation," the spy frowned.

"Did you steal my credits?" Smokescreen growled. _I'm not playing games anymore_, he thought in his head.

"Wha…Excuse me?" Mirage asked, looking perplexed and a little annoyed.

"Did. You. Steal. The. Credits. I. Won. Last. Night?" Smokescreen ground out the words with venom in his tone. He was extremely angered and at the end of his patience.

"Sorry, but I would never commit such a dirty and unsophisticated act such as theft," Mirage glared.

"How about you tell the truth and I don't send you to Ratchet for a _veeeery_ long time!" the psychologist all but yelled, raising his fist.

Before Mirage could answer, a voice interjected. "Excuse me, Smokescreen, but is there any _logical _reason why you're threatening Mirage?" Both mechs looked up to find Prowl staring at them with a frown on his lip components.

The blue Datsun gulped. "Someone stole the credits I won last night, and I've been questioning the suspects because Silverbolt wouldn't help me and I didn't want to deal with Red Alert and I'm at the end of my slagging patience!" he said in a steely voice.

"I see," said Prowl. "Mirage, you are relieved of your duties for now. Smokescreen, come with me to my office." Smokescreen grumbled and followed Prowl out of the room after a moment's hesitation.

Mirage blinked his optics few times and lay down on the couch, deciding to nap off his close call with pain.


	4. Captured

Smokescreen sat and watched as Prowl evaluated the story he had just heard. When the tactician spoke, he was a mix of annoyed and humored.

"So you deliberately ignored chain of command and you went around accusing your fellow Autobots?"

"Yes, Prowl," the psychologist grumbled. He didn't want to be chewed for something that he felt was not his fault. Inside he knew he was incorrect, but for now he was too tired to listen.

"I've analyzed the case. Due to your behavior this morning, you are to be on communications duty with Seaspray this week and the next. You'll be operating in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, near the equator." Prowl paused as his fellow Datsun groaned, then continued, "However, knowing your personality, I am giving you a slight reprieve. I have Streetwise and Red Alert working on your case righ-" Just then, one of the bots in question burst in.

"Yo, Prowler, we've got your info here," Streetwise grinned. "And you'll never believe whodunnit."

0o0o0o0o0o

Smokescreen smirked as he stared at Hoist standing helplessly behind the brig bars. "So why'd you do it?" the race car queried.

Hoist's visor turned downwards, hinting a frown behind his faceplate. "Grapple, Huffer, and I needed Energon to complete our latest project. With the recent string of battles, most of the Autobots' Energon was going to the medbay, so there was none for our project, which would've _assisted_ the medics. I was going to melt down your chips for Energon."

"Did Grapple know?" the car asked.

"No. Neither did Huffer," the green and orange robot replied. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to help Ratchet and the others. I'm sorry." Hoist lowered his head despondently.

Smokescreen thought about this for several minutes. Hoist's spark _was_ in the right place… Glancing at Slingshot, who was supposed to be guarding Hoist. The small jet had nodded off, his head resting on his shoulder. Without a second thought, the Datsun unlocked Hoist's cell. The tow truck could only stare in shock.

"He'll be out for another hour. Come on, let's go for a drive. If you beat me up to the crater, you get all the Energon I won. If not, you get half. Deal?" the racer grinned. Hoist nodded, and together they rolled out of the Ark.

**THE END**


End file.
